


To Kill A Mockingbird

by blurrycopaface



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Crossdressing, Dark Web, Drinking, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fucked Up Sexual Stuff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Knifeplay, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Murder, Porn Addiction, Psychosis, Stabbing, Voyeurism, but he’s immortal so it’s okay, fetishes, homicidal urges, slight necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurrycopaface/pseuds/blurrycopaface
Summary: Sometimes Nathan made Simon so angry he could kill him.(Or the one where Simon is an unstable touch starved porn addict and Nathan is a narcissistic masochist who cannot die)
Relationships: Simon Bellamy/Nathan Young
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	To Kill A Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatched Misfits again early this year and this came to me.  
> Enjoy ?  
> I liked toying with the idea of Simon being _much more_ unstable and incorporated a lot of personal vent, so trigger warning for dark stuff.  
> Timeline varies from original storyline to fit into this.

  
Simon Bellamy had never seen quiet such beautiful eyes on anybody.  
Not even Sally.

Sally had strikingly dark blue eyes, framed by neatly cut maroon bangs.  
She was gentle and mature and seemed genuinely interested in him, something Simon hadn’t been introduced to before in a relationship, be it platonic or romantic.

Simon wished so much that he could have been able to touch Sally more. To know how she tasted between her legs.

He was so broken when he killed her.  
It had been an honest mistake, really.  
He was just hurting so badly in the moment, reacting in self defense when Sally had smashed the side of his head against the bathroom mirror and ran from him.

Can you really blame him though? Wouldn’t anybody have behaved like he had in that kind of a situation?  
Simon couldn’t believe she had been using him like that, just to get more information about her fiancé’s disappearance.  
Maybe he shouldn’t have been so naive in believing she was truly enamoured in his hobbies and personality.  
But still, Simon had trusted her, and she had broken that trust.

He had been hopeful that maybe he could get a normal girlfriend and live a normal life with hand holding and gentle vanilla sex and all that.  
Maybe Simon would just forget about everything that had happened to him, like the weird storm granting him powers and the two bodies he and his accomplices had buried under the freeway overpass.

But he wouldn’t forget how Sally had manipulated him, couldn’t forget that kind of betrayal.  
How she had taken his phone, one of his most private items, looked through his things, even spied on him by pretending to be some girl on the internet and fabricating a false friendship in order to extract information.

Simon would never do something like that to someone else: snoop, that is.

Okay, well, maybe he would.  
And maybe he had.  
And maybe he _still_ was.

But Simon really had never seen eyes as beautiful as his.

Nathan Young.  
  


On the first day of community service when Nathan introduced himself, in all his cocky, chiseled cheek boned, plump limped, curly haired, gorgeousness, Simon was taken aback by him, first by how effortlessly attractive he was and secondly by how utterly vulgar, offensive and unabashed someone could possibly behave.

He reminded Simon of all the bullies back in highschool, feeling obsolete in their prescience and he detested Nathan’s arrogance just as hotly as he once did to the classmates who pushed him against cold metal lockers and called him foul names.

When Nathan had gestured to Simon and asked what he had been done in for, before he even had a chance to respond, Nathan very pointedly declared Simon, ‘Looks like the type to be a panty sniffer’ and then proceeded to make obscene gestures in front of his crotch while groaning loudly.

_Seriously, was this guy for real?_

Simon tried to ignore him, again and again, day after day.  
Just a few months with these people.  
He could make it, he could do it, was the mantra in his head when he wasn’t preoccupied by music.  
Keep his head down, earphones in and just do the community service he came here to do.  
But he felt so far out of place, like in most social situations.

Because Simon never really knew what to say, or how to seem normal, that often resulted in him sticking out like a sore thumb. Or being completely ignored. He wasn’t sure which one was worse.  
Nathan only made it that much harder with his incessant attempts at picking on him.  
The way that Nathan leered at him, making him the butt of all his jokes, it was as if he was a small defenseless animal that Nathan just had to poke a stick at for fun, it felt like sandpaper to Simon’s already wounded skin.

What did he ever do to Nathan?

Granted Simon wasn't the only target of his jiving, it seemed like any and everyone was fair game.  
Elderly people, the other misfits, Nathan’s own mother, but Simon sure seemed to get the brunt of it, or so he felt.  
He tried to convince himself that he hated the twat. Because honestly, that oftentimes wasn’t too far of a stretch from the truth.

When Nathan would call him names like, ‘ _Weird kid_ ’ or ‘ _Pedophile_ ’ his blood would boil, it would give a little bit of kindle to the animosity and frustration he felt beginning to crackle and burn in his gut.  
Simon would have to clench his fists tightly by his side while riding out the flashing images in his mind of Nathan’s face bloodied by his fists.

His beautiful face.  
Painted red with his own beautiful blood.  
How Simon wished he could smash that face against a wall some days.

The kid was so immodest and down right a proper cunt (he didn’t like using that kind of language often, but a better adjective for Nathan he couldn’t find) Simon didn't think he had ever met anybody who was as big a bully as Nathan was. And Simon had met many.

The whole rest of the group could agree to that within a second.  
They all would insist Nathan, “Just shut the hell up.” or stopped being so bloody obnoxious all the damn time.

Simon wanted to put him in his place like the others did, he admired how Kelly or Curtis spoke back to him, but could never find the confidence to do much other than listen to the onslaught of bullying and scowl at Nathan cooley from afar. He didn’t quiet feel confident enough to stand up for himself, and tried to let it slide while journaling about how much he tormented him.

And still, as much of an asshole and a twat as he was, Nathan was so damn beautiful and agonizingly aloof to the point that Simon found himself utterly transfixed by the other young man.

Simon loved to record Nathan. Whether it be of his knowing or not.  
He liked recording everything actually, it was one of _many_ unconventional quirks he had.  
It made him feel somewhat in control of a situation when things would be spiraling madly and Simon would feel terribly overwhelmed and lacking in social ingenuity.

Simon felt like he was so distant from everyone and everything else, and if he wasn’t too careful, time would slip right on by and he would forget these small details of memories in community service, which were actually some of the best moments he had in his life thus far.  
It was comforting to know he always had his phone on him, in his jumpsuit or trouser pocket, ready to flip on and hit the red circle to capture a new moment and then look back on later to relive in sincerity.

He would sit in his immaculately kept room as he picked through files on the recordings of his friends doing idle community work.  
 _Could he even call them that? Did he have the right to?_  
Simon never had a solid definition of friends in his life.

There was Curtis mopping, Alisha chewing bubblegum and swinging her hooped earrings around while she painted a wall, but Simon would always indulge in finding a favorite clip of Nathan to rewatch over and over.

Sometimes he would pause on a thumbnail of him, Nathan looking up towards the camera, green eyes framed by thick lashes caught unexpectedly by the phone lens. Brown curly hair messed against his head, his plump lips parted in what was most probably a mid sentence of some particularly vulgar comment.

Simon would trace his finger slowly against the electrical crackle of the computer screen, along Nathan’s jawline and he would shudder, momentarily picturing how it must be to _actually_ touch him.

Simon wonders often what it’s like to have sex.  
What it’s like to trust someone so much and have them trust you that your flesh presses against the other person’s.  
All that contact. All that openness  
How terrifying that must be. How invigorating too.

Simon thinks a lot about what other people look like nude.  
Getting to see both Alisha and Kelly strip down to their undergarments while he was invisible was blisteringly galvanizing.

He had breathed in the sweet smell of each of their hair, the radiating heat of their skin inches from his face, teetering on his feet as to not brush up against them. He was invisible, sure, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t feel him if he breathed too hard.  
He knew in the back of his mind how perverse he was. But the possibility of being caught was only part of the fun.

Simon was scared of the others realizing that Nathan was right, that all the mockery and presumptions about him were actually true.  
That Simon _was_ a pervert. That Simon _was_ lonely.

He fears opening up too much to any of them, even though he desperately wanted to. Sometimes distance is the safest measure for both you and the people around you. So for everyone’s sake - Simon learned how to keep these friends of his at an arm's length.

But near death experiences had a way of undeniably bonding people together. And seeing someone killed before your very eyes is something that inevitably alters your subconscious forever.

Simon already had thoughts about these things for a lot of his life, had learned to try and cope with flashes of violent images in his mind which he told countless therapists about.  
Wondering what his father would look like if he was chopped up by helicopter blades, or a school bully swallowing a mini grenade, splattering the school gym with his insides.  
The therapists were worried, but he would never hurt anybody, or so he tried to tell himself, just morbid curiosity. Then again, there was an indisputable rush to feel the spray of blood from their probation worker having his skull smashed in by Kelly’s shovel.

Simon almost admires how effortlessly she had ended his life in mere seconds.  
The crunch of his skull reminded him of an eggshell he would crack open for breakfast, the brain oozing out of it’s cranial carapace like yoke.  
Simon wants to feel bad, but finds himself being in stoic awe by the whole situation.

Simon tries to turn his attention back to routine, an obsession, a compulsion, something he was used to doing to distract from these pervasive thoughts.  
Thoughts of pain, thoughts of rage.

His parents asked him if he was okay, ever since the holes in the wall he had punched in the living room.

When Nathan rubs his nearly naked body on the rooftop with sunscreen, Simon tries to avoid looking, knowing it would just give another reason for the others to call him pervert.  
Alisha and Curtis were looking away with disturbed expressions, yet Kelly watched under the shadow of her hand to shield the sun, smiling in entertainment.

Simon stole a few glances at his lean pale body, to see the way his hands rubbed at his small toned muscles and nearly groped at his junk through his rainbow striped boxers.  
He knew all of this was not for him, but rather it was for Kelly and for irrational shock value, even still, Simon felt his breath catch sharply and his stomach tighten sickeningly as he eyes Nathan riding his underwear up his ass crack, bending over obscenely to expose himself to the entire group.  
“Oh _fuck off_ , mate!” Moans Curtis, getting up to leave as Alisha too leaves with him with a comment of, “That’s just sick.”

It was all supposed to be a joke, it always was with Nathan, and yet Simon had to excuse himself shortly after this little show too, retreating to the community bathroom to shakily zip down his front and shove a hand into his jumpsuit to wank himself off.  
He most certainly had not been thinking about the dark hair of Nathan’s ass crack and treasure trail when he spunked on his stomach.  
Not one bit.

He hated it, _hated_ how badly he wanted to touch others. How badly he wanted to _be_ touched.  
He never had been, besides the situation with Sally, he surmised he never would be again.  
He was an outcast, and a freak, no one would understand or accept the odd sexual things he thought about.

Sex was a strange and entangled topic for him. It always had been since he had access to the internet. He wanted to learn about the taboo topic of fucking, so all his information came from porn and echhi manga rented from the library (which he carefully hid from his strict parents, _metaphysics books_ , he insisted to them when coming home with a backpack full).

When you don’t have exposure to certain things, your mind begins to subconsciously fixate on them, so if you were to shun away a chocolate cake away, try not to smell it or think about eating it, it’s sort of inescapable that if you were to be in a room with posters of the chocolate cake, surrounded by other people eating it, you’re likely to want to devour the entire thing in one gulp.

And this is how Simon felt about sex. He knew that it was fine, and normal, and sure people did it. But _he_ didn’t do it, and didn't feel allowed, so _he_ wasn’t fine or normal, and so he devoured it in secret as much as he possibly could.  
His parents never wanted to have ‘the talk’, didn’t know how to approach Simon when they found magazines of hardcore BDSM porn in his room. So ‘the talk’ turned into his web browser. And internally he learned this was something the entire rest of the world had the privilege of experiencing but him.  
There must be something wrong with him. And he probably deserves it.

But having instantaneous access to the internet while you are horrendously lonely and maybe a little mentally ill can breed bad things.  
It started out innocent enough, trying to understand sex and the human body.

Why was he so obsessed over nudity and pleasure? And pain and violence? He just wanted answers and he wanted desperately to feel understood.  
Over the years it twisted itself into something deep and dark, rooted in the coils of Simon’s psyche that contained hurt and loneliness and a lust for the dark.

He usually didn’t even look at the stuff in the event of getting himself off, it was more for shocking his own mind into a little stimulation, a little bit of a high.  
He knew it was bad, he knew it. And yet it tasted like sweet sticky honey that stuck to his fingers and left a taste in his mouth even after he was done putting his hand into the beehive. It stung him and left its mark. Swollen, itching and painful. And eventually, wanting some more.

—

His relationship with Matt was exciting because Simon thought he might actually have a friend for once.

They were friends since Kindergarten, Siimon wanted to ask him out, wanted to kiss him, almost did until he realized Matt didn’t take interest in him nearly as much as Simon hoped. He didn’t understand social cues very well and never had.

One day they had been talking and laughing, Simon telling him he had a kind smile, attempting to hold his hand like he had seen a girl and a boy do in the movies.

The next day at school Matt was ignoring him like he had gone invisible far before he had the power to do so, cutting him out of his life entirely. Then began to spread rumors that he spied on girls in the locker room and saying that he had tried to rape him.  
After that Simon was being bullied even worse than before. Constant death threats, notes on his locker, being assaulted as he left school.  
“Faggot freak!” Often accompanied with wads of trash being chucked at him

It never seemed to end. Simon was constantly on edge, in fear, stomach tight with the promise of uncertainty. No one could be trusted, no one should be trusted.

Matt and his friends would round the corner of the school and Simon knew he would be walking home with bruises under his long sleeve shirt.  
His parents were aware, they just didn’t know how to help. It was almost as if they had given up on him, maybe they didn’t even believe in him to begin with. Or maybe they were embarrassed by him. They always knew he was ‘different’, treating him like he wasn’t able to do anything on his own. They treated him like an alien, just how everyone else seemed to.

So it had continued, Matt acting like the past 8 years of their friendship through middle school and high school meant nothing anymore.  
Simon still sometimes wishes he hadn’t put the fire out he started inside of Matt’s house so he could have watched him burn alive, flesh melting off of his shrieking face.  
What bliss that would have been.

Simon tries not to think about these things too much. They were scary. And he didn’t want to look at that scary part too hard.

You start to change after you have murdered someone.  
He had seen someone being killed before, even before the incident with the probation worker, reluctantly admitting he had watched snuff films when he was younger, and started to become obsessed with the dark web, but he had never been _involved_ with anyone’s harm.  
He hadn’t even dreamt of crossing that line, he morally knew better.  
It was all bound tightly by the security of secrecy whether that be in his head, in his journals, or through a laptop screen.

It’s one thing to watch gruesome stuff online, but it’s something totally different to be tangibly involved in it.

He never thought he’d watch the life drain out of an actual living person. Or that he would drag the heavy body into a cooler to keep preserved like some frozen meat.

Why did he even keep her?  
In hopes she would survive?  
To buy time until he figured out what to do with the corpse?  
Or, he thinks horrifyingly, to touch her and look at her?  
He never actually did anything with the body, but the idea had crossed his mind repeatedly while looking at her blue dazed expression of a face.

He eventually takes the wheelbarrow through the hallway to dump her trash bag wrapped body into the lake outside the center.  
No one even noticed, as they never did with him.

You start to see the world a little bit differently after seeing what he had seen.  
Feeling what he had felt.  
You feel a little less scared.  
You feel a little less hesitant. A little more bold.  
A little more _unstoppable_.

Realizing the power one can have over the manipulation of life is something so intoxicating it cannot be described. Simon hoped he wouldn’t become addicted like other habits he had.

He killed someone, so nothing really scared him the same way anymore.  
All the years of being picked on, it’s like that was training for him to finally stand up and be tough.  
He felt much of nothing anymore.  
Except anger, anger was always there.

When Simon talks back to Nathan for the first time, squares up to his words of abuse, Nathan looks rather shocked, eyes wide and gawking at him.  
“I just want to be your friend.” Simon ends his sentence with, blinking rapidly and averting his gaze. He still felt inferior in the other’s presence.  
“Well then _Barry_ ….” Nathan’s favorite nickname to call him, which wasn’t even close to his actual name and offended Simon. He mutters under his breath and humphs, turning away to continue his community service without another word.  
Simon feels triumphant to shut the little asshole up finally.

There was a strange mix of desire to be kind and comforting to Nathan and then on the other hand shove him against the nearest wall and punch him in the nose.

It was shocking that someone so attractive could say such ugly words.

It wasn’t that Simon thought he was a bad person, no, who was he to judge after all the things he had done and seen, but rather, he saw right through Nathan’s ‘tough boy’ attitude and understood that hurt people hurt people.

And with how much Nathan acted like a dick, Simon realized that Nathan must be hurting far worse than he lets on. He notices that the way the group treats Nathan is almost similar to how Simon himself had been treated. Just a different context. And maybe Nathan deserved it. Simon finds himself questioning if he deserved it too?

Simon reconsiders the group to be the first true friends he had, and how odd and corrupted they all seemed to be, so naturally he fit right in. And that felt nice.

So no matter how much he tries to deny it, Simon Bellamy is absolutely enamored by Nathan Young, albeit how dysfunctional their relationship was.

In fact he had become obsessed.  
Obsessed with the tug and pull rollercoaster of emotion that interacting with Nathan put him on. It reminded him of Matt at school, only this time Simon actually felt that he had the power.  
But things can get bad when Simon becomes obsessed with something.

He hadn’t meant to make it a habitual activity, the first time he spies on Nathan was a circumstance of fate.  
He had turned invisible by mistake and gone into the locker room to try to calm his reeling mind.

He had been experiencing flashbacks of the night with Sally: the sounds of her crying, the smell of her blood, the memory that he had _licked_ her blood off his own fingers after he was done carefully placing her body in the freezer.  
How he throbbed horribly at the memories. How he hated himself for it. Absolutely _hated_ himself.  
All he could see was red, his hands shook, he wanted, he _needed_ something.

Nathan had walked in, he had started changing _right in front of him_.  
Simon literally had no choice other than to hold his breath and watch the young man strip the bright orange jumpsuit off of his lanky frame.  
It certainly had redirected his train of violent thoughts.

Simon’s eyes bore into the other’s skin, focusing on the way the trail of star tattoos wrapped around the curve of Nathan’s hip, making him seem so feminine and floozy.  
Pale skin stretched across bones, Simon drank in every point and ridge of rib cage, every protrusion of hip and round of arse.

This had been the first time he ever saw a naked guy in the flesh.  
He was breathing hard and was uncomfortably aware how his jumpsuit was growing snug around the groin region.  
Nathan whistled, tossed his buoyant bousel of hair back, he slipped his underwear off and Simon stared at his revealed cock.

It probably wasn’t that exciting for most people, seeing someone else’s dick, but for him, it was like spotting a wild animal for the first time, something he had otherwise strictly seen only on television, or in this case: on his computer monitor.

Soon his little voyeur show was over and Nathan had changed back into his regular clothing for the day. Simon was only a little disappointed, his own cock hard and needy for attention.  
He got himself off for the 4th time that day.

Maybe it was masochistic of him to want to be friends with Nathan.  
Why did he try so hard to connect with and be kind to somebody who treated him like dirt?  
Hadn’t he learned from everyone?  
Hadn’t he learned to keep his private self far distant from the rest of society, for society would never accept and understand? Apparently not.

Maybe it’s because Simon saw, no, Simon _felt_ how lonely and broken and lost Nathan truly was.  
And it was achingly similar to how Simon himself felt.

\--

He had been watching Nathan for some time over the past months since service began - he had become a sort of project for Simon, a ritualistic activity that was a much better alternative to his dark web surfing, he surmised.  
He discovered that Nathan slept in the community centre at night, often drank alone on his cot late, and would smoke through half empty packs of cigarettes he'd scavenged from dumpsters.  
He also cried much more than Simon expected him to.  
He was almost scared the first time Nathan burst into a fit of sobs.

It had been quiet and Simon began to doze off, eyes drooping sluggishly closed, back pressed against a wall of the small loft Nathan had made into his home.  
It had to be around midnight by now, and Simon questioned himself as to why he felt such an obligated need to watch over Nathan like this doting mother, why he felt the urge to protect him and give him company, even if that company was actually unknown to Nathan himself and perhaps rather undeserving too.

He felt like a ghost, hovering around to follow the boy like a detached consciousness.

Said boy had curled up onto his mat after drinking profusely, he was breathing shallow and slow, Simon had pretty much expected him to be asleep by now, deciding it was time to go home and try to sleep himself, but then Nathan let out a horrid wail and Simon jumped with a start.

He watched the back of Nathan shuddering with inhales of crying, the sounds of his broken sobs were rather pathetic. Simon crept over to the other on his hands and knees, nearly forgetting that Nathan couldn’t hear or see him so there was no need to be so tentative with his steps.  
He laid down right in front of the cot, on the cool hard concrete and studied the other young man’s face.

Nathan looked a gorgeous mess: eyelashes tangled and wet from crying, lips red and moistened from drinking and biting at them. He attempted to gulp down breathes of air as his whole body shook with tremors of sadness, he wrapped his arms around his own small chest and squeezed.

“M-Mom..” He whimpered, burying his face into a blanket and Simon could feel his heart break a little.  
He had closed his eyes now, tears streaming down into the arms of his sweatshirt, staining it a dark blue where it made contact.  
Simon wished he could reach out just then and brush away the curls from his trembling face. Hold him until he stopped shaking.  
Simon thinks back on the times he himself had been all alone in the psych ward, cuddled up to a gray stiff pillow while crying into his bitten palm.  
Simon had wanted someone to hold him so badly then and to tell him he was loved.  
He wants to do the very same for Nathan.

All the anger and frustration Simon felt building over the past months gently dissipated for the moment for he realized how truly human and defeated Nathan Young was. He really was no different from Simon himself. Simon almost forgives him for all the meanness.  
Almost.

Nathan finally stilled and looked up, hiccuping a little, he stared off into the distance, right through Simon.  
The emptiness in his eyes was measurable, the usual glitter of confidence completely extinguished by the quelching of tears.

What a sight to see a person normally so sure and arrogant of themselves utterly exhausted and broken from turmoil.  
It did a strange thing to Simon. It made him sad, sure, but it also... almost satisfied him. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. He tries not to think about it too much when he falls asleep later that night.

\--

It was Friday night and Simon had been lonely, per usual and was on his laptop, eyes burning from looking at the artificial light for far too long.  
He shuffled in his desk chair and considered watching porn - a normal option for when he was lonely. Or bored, or sad or really anything other than preoccupied with an activity with his friends. His fingers hovered over the keys after he clicked on incognito mode in the search bar and didn't breathe for a few seconds in suspended decision.  
It would be so easy to pull up something nasty right now and just sink in...

He decided to spy on Nathan instead.

Simon gets all the way to the old darkened building, which was easy enough to travel to from his parents' place, and makes his way inside.  
It was late, so Nathan most likely would be on his cot drinking, or maybe strolling outside to smoke and kick at the trash bins agitatedly.

As Simon surveys the area, he almost thinks that maybe Nathan isn’t at the community center at all, perhaps the poor bloke finally found a bed to sleep in, or a girl to get drunk with for the night.  
Simon feels a twinge of jealousy at the speculation. It seemed empty and quiet and Simon was going to turn back home until he heard the toilets of the men’s room flushing and the door bangs open as Nathan walked right past him, beelining for the community locker room.  
He looked like he had been drinking, tottering a little bit on his lanky legs, eyes blurry and red rimmed, maybe he had been crying even. He smells like beer.  
Simon wonders where he is going and decides to let curiosity win this round.  
Damn he hated how easily he gave into impulses.

Nathan strides (rather wobbly) into the locker space, hands shoved into his pockets as he whistles and walks down the aisle to where all their individual lockers were kept.  
Simon’s heart leaps into his throat as Nathan walks up to Simon’s own locker and prays to the Gods above that he doesn’t open it and find evidence that Simon had killed the second probation worker.  
He already had a poor reputation with most people, he didn’t need this to exacerbate it.  
With a sigh, Simon is relieved to see Nathan walk right by the locker, stopping instead in front of Alisha’s.

Nathan takes a quick glance around the room and bites at his lip in a thoughtful way.  
He reaches out a hand to tug at the locker door and it opens with a loud screech.  
Simon cocks his head interestedly.

The young man looks through the contents of the locker, mumbling something that sounds like, “Where did it go..”  
Simon inches a little closer to attempt an angle at seeing what Nathan was doing exactly.  
He is opening a small bag that was inside of the compartment and looks into it. Then with a deflated sigh, closes it back again and tosses it rather half assed back into the bin.  
He groans, shaking his head and seems to decide on looking into the very top section of the locker. Nathan reaches up on his tippy toes to shove a long arm back into the small space, tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration.

“Ah- _hah_!” He sounds accomplished as his hand closes around something and he yanks it backward with all his might.

Suddenly papers come tumbling down onto the floor around him in a loud flutter, startling Simon enough to hop back away from the ordeal.

“Shit.” Nathan says under his breath, landing on his ass with the force of his own doing.  
He’s holding some sort of wad of shiny fabric in his hand as he starts to gather the papers up in the free one, stuffing them back into the same compartment they were

He sighs in relief and closes the locker, wiping at his forehead briefly before looking down at what he had retrieved from all the hassle.

It was one of Alisha’s dresses - a skimpy strapless one that was sequined with black and silver diamonds. Simon had seen her wear it before, it was very sexy and rode high on her legs.

_What the bloody hell would Nathan want with that?_

He watches Nathan thumb at the soft fabric and Simon wonders if this whole situation was as perverted as it seemed to be or if that was just wishful thinking on his behalf.  
Nathan glances around anxiously again before placing the dress on a chair beside the locker, then proceeding to lift his shirt up off his body and strip his jeans as well.

Simon’s stomach coils, heart leaping into his throat with a rush similar to the one he gets when watching something he knows he shouldn’t be.

Nathan couldn’t be, _could he?_

Simon can’t believe that Nathan was going to do something so perverted and his heart pangs a little strangely at the small realization that maybe someone else was just as sexually devious as Simon himself.

But No. Simon concludes.  
 _No way_ would Nathan ever be as depraved as him. Nathan wouldn't and couldn’t ever know what goes on in his mind.

He watches with mounting arousal as Nathan strips and he slips his pale thin body inside of the sheer, shiney material.  
He whines, the feminine sound bouncing sharply off the empty walls.  
Nathan now strides over to the full length mirror that rested on the far wall of the locker space.  
He turns his body back and forth, hands on his own hips as he admires himself.

“Oh how pretty you are!”  
He chirps, smiling and biting at his lip to his own reflection. He giggles.  
“Oh thank you, I just got this little number!” He responded to himself, running a hand across his own chest, scratching along the beaded fabric.  
“I look a bit like a slag in it, but _oh my_ how it gets the boy’s attention.”

Nathan poses in front of the mirror, pursing his lips, tilting his face in different angles. He pulls his hair back into a cute small ponytail and ties it with a band.

Sighing, he then brings the chair over to rest in front of the mirror and sits down in it modestly.  
Back straight, shoulders squared, Nathan tilts his head up in poise.

“Hmm. Why _yes_. You may touch my legs, sir.” He says and gingerly rubs a hand down his own leg, which was rather exposed due to the shortness of the dress.  
Simon can hear him moan gently as his hand comes back up his own thigh to grope lightly at his crotch.

“Oh, that’s _naughty_ of you, don’t you know a lady never shows on her first date?”  
Nathan is rotating his hips, already excited cock poking up to tent the dress.  
Well if Simon was unsure of the intent of Nathan wearing the dress before, he was bloody hell sure of it now.

Nathan moans again, this time breathy and much more lost sounding. Simon watches in utter awe as the man gropes at his own bulge more surley through the shiny fabric and ruts up into his own hand. Simon is already painfully hard himself, but is almost enjoying the show too much to move a muscle.

He’s splayed out on the chair now, Nathan spreads his legs obscenely, hiking up the shimmering fabric of the dress, he’s positioned himself so he can look directly at his own reflection in the mirror, how self conceited of him, Simon thinks.

He spreads his knees, spits on his fingers and reaches down underneath the dress.  
Simon whimpers loudly, then positioning himself so he can stand right behind Nathan, up against a locker, so that he could watch Nathan’s reflection in the mirror with him. Finally giving in, Simon starts to touch himself while watching the glorious performance.

Nathan whimpers like he had been hurt, head lolling back against the chair as he fingers himself in earnest.

Simon should really stop, he should really leave. He should be asleep by now, they had more community service in the morning but he can’t stop ogling at Nathan, like watching really horrid content on the internet, he wanted to look away, he knew he should just close the laptop screen and go to sleep, but his eyes were wide open and trained to their target, dick throbbing in interest.

Simon is speeding up his own movements to match Nathan’s, eyes fixed on the gaping of his tight hole.  
He thinks about stuffing him full with his fingers, wonders how many fingers Nathan had trained himself to take, he pictures him taking his whole entire hand up his ass.  
He pictures how his hole would stretch around the girth to try and accommodate it.

Simon is panting and mumbling obscenities about Nathan that he wouldn’t care to admit the context to, he’s pumping faster and harder, watching Nathan’s eyebrows knit together and he starts to feel himself slipping, the world shuddering and vibrating, head falling back until, _oh no—_

Orgasm is cut short as Nathan is suddenly hollering loudly, legs kicking out as he stops his masturbating and pulls his own fingers out from himself. He stares dead straight at Simon, green eyes blown wide.  
Fuck. He most definitely was not invisible anymore.

“What the—what the _fuck_? Barry?!”  
Nathan breathes out in gasped high pitched wails, his bushy hair pushed back into the bun, framing his slightly sweaty, deeply flushed and obviously still intoxicated face.  
Nathan glances down to see Simon’s hand still inside his own trousers and Simon realizes there is no way he’d be able to explain himself out of this situation.

“Na-Nathan--” Simon starts, fumbling jerkily with trying to get his own pants closed back up without getting his cock caught in the zipper. He tries to stand up shakily.

Nathan looks utterly mortified, tottering over in his chair, trying desperately to scootch away from Simon only to fall clumsily onto the hard concrete.  
He yelps in distress, flailing to try and close his legs so Simon couldn’t see up his dress.  
Yeah, too late for that.

“You were — _shit_ — you fucking _pervert_ you were watching me?! And knocking off?!”  
Simon stands rigid, his hand flies up to desperately flatten his hair down in a nervous tick.

“I’m sorry Nathan, really, I didn’t mean it!” Any previous self confidence with speaking up to him vanished because Simon felt he truly did something wrong and he should be ashamed.  
“I just--wanted to be sure you were _alright_ and all, I know you haven’t had the best situation lately and-and…”  
Simon looks anywhere but Nathan, heart hammering like when his Mom would catch him watching porn as a kid.

He really fucked up, he should really go, Nathan would probably tell everyone else in the morning, they would all be horrified and he would be shunned from their little group, never welcomed back in again once they realized the names Nathan called him were true.  
He _was_ a horrible pervert.  
He would lose the only friends he had ever known.

Tears began to well in his eyes. “I-I should just go, I’m really sorry--” He’s aiming to leave, turning around, trajectory at the exit, but instead Nathan shouts, “Hang on!”  
Simon obeys. He turns slowly back around to face his own embarrassment.  
Nathan plays with his hair for what seems like a suspended moment, wrapping it tightly around a finger while his wet still drunken eyes blink rather erotically, darting back and forth between Simon and the ground as if he were processing something as well as he could in his current state.

It was achingly quiet in the locker room, Simon could hear his pulse.  
“So,” Nathan slurs and clears his throat. “You liked what you saw, did you…you pervert?”  
Simon swallows dryly. There was no more being invisible.  
So he nods.

Nathan smirks and bites at his pink lip. Simon watches him, transfixed as ever.  
“Well, why don’t you come here and help me out then?” Nathan spreads his legs a small amount as he asks this, finger curling towards himself in a beckoning motion.

Simon feels like molten lava spills into his lap, his groin all hot and tight again with sudden excitement, the burn of his still yet to be relieved erection bouncing back to full attention. Simon shivers, unsure how to react in a sudden shift in mood.

Nathan was obviously intoxicated and Simon knew it was very wrong of him to fuck somebody who was so out of their element.  
But...  
Nathan was expressively lonely and Simon, well, Simon had waited his whole teenage years to finally know what it was like to touch somebody.  
To fuck somebody.  
Simon scoots towards him.

Everything happened in a blur, Nathan was trepidatious with his movements at first, running fingers lightly against his legs, then he kissed Simon hard and wet, tugging at his short hair.  
There is a hand at Simon’s chest, groping his muscles, stroking along his stomach.  
He stops breathing. It all reminds him of the small interactions with Sally right before Simon ended her life.  
He really hopes this ends up better.

Nathan is on the chair again, tugging him by the shirt collar to follow him, and Simon presses him up against one of the lockers not being used.  
His head is thrown back, causing the locker to clang loudly, hair wet with sweat and sticking to his neck and forehead, Simon watches with awe as he grabs Nathan’s hips through the dress, gropes at his legs.

He feels on fire, far too turned on for his own good, nearly lost in the heat of the moments. The soft flesh of his inner thighs against Simon’s hands, Nathan tugging at his belt and zipper, it was like a fever dream that threatened to swallow him up with heat.

Simon isn’t sure how any of this works, so he follows Nathan’s lead.  
“Unzip your fuckin’ jeans mate.” His breathing is labored, Simon does as he is told, glad to be directed.

Nathan croons, sweet and so whorish in his ear.  
“Barry—p- _please_ -“ and he doesn’t know what he is asking, what he needs to do next. He blinks at Nathan, genuinely confused and unsure, scared that he could make a single mistake and Nathan would be gone in a moment.

“Please.” He begs again, lip bitten red and wet, eyebrows knotted in a look of innocent desire. Simon can read what he is trying to say without the next words that come from his lips.  
“ _Please_ fuck me.”  
And Simon groans, feeling a dull throb in his groin like a pulse. Nathan gropes at his trousers, and that’s enough instruction for him to tug his pants down around his ankles.  
He’s in dark blue boxers, and looks down flushing, starkly aware of how exposed he was.

“Hmm?” Nathan leans up to grip his cock through the fabric, right around the base and tugs on him. Simon gasps.  
“You shy?”

Simon feels so hot across his entire body, considers taking his shirt off, but realizes that would make him even more anxious.  
Nathan pops his cock out of his boxer hole and starts to jerk him to thickness.  
Simon sputters and humps into his movements, causing the chair under Nathan to squeal against the concrete.

“Wait, are you..?” Nathan trails off and slowing his hand movements, he looks into Simon’s eyes rather begot and driftingly. “Are you a _virgin_?”  
Simon bites his lip, nodding his head admittedly.

“Oh god…” Simon is worried he did something wrong as Nathan says this. “Oh my _god_! This is awesome Barry! I get to be your first!” Nathan grins at him widely and tugs his shirt. “Oh and what a first I am, baby!” He winks and Simon flushes with embarrassment. “I-I bet you are.” He manages to say, trying to get something out of his own mouth.

Nathan grabs at Simon, pressing him against the front of his dress and pulling him into a messy wet kiss.  
“You’re gonna be so good at fucking. I know it. I can feel all that pent up energy.” Nathan digs his nails into his arm so hard it hurts. He bucks hard against Nathan.  
“ _Virgin_.” Simon hisses in response to the insult.

Nathan tears a condom open with his teeth, which just so happened to be tucked into a hidden pocket in the dress. Simon wonders if that was Alisha’s or his.

He feels the rubber go on his already aching cock, and Nathan gropes at him roughly, rocking hips up.  
Nathan spits on his fingers and reaches between his thighs, shakily opening himself up again.  
Simon is suddenly contained with warmth, squeezing at his dick and causing him to whimper pathetically.  
“Mmm _yeah_ , that’s it.” Nathan rotates himself on his cock, eyes fluttering dreamily.  
And Simon forgets how to breathe, being pressed against Nathan’s body, wearing a dress, inside of Nathan’s asshole.  
“ _Move_ you idiot.” Nathan’s whine cuts into his thoughts and Simon comes back to earth somewhat enough.  
He grips at Nathan’s bedazzled hips, suddenly sure of his current activity, fingers catching on sequins and shifting them so they were a different color from the rest of the fabric, it’s mesmerizing.

He slams into him with force.  
“B-Barry, _fuck_ , say I’m pretty Barry. _Please_ tell me I’m pretty.”  
Simon does find him pretty, Nathan doesn’t even have to demand that to be something Simon tells him, it’s something he had been wanting to tell him since the very beginning, even before Nathan was wearing a dress.

“Y-you’re _so_ pretty Nathan.”  
It’s cautious and quiet, let out between thrusts, but Simon knows he can hear it because Nathan moans underneath him, looking up with knitted dark eyebrows, quivering green eyes and a pink tongue poking out from his lips.

“Yes- _yes_ -“ Nathan was whimpering like a cheap whore, nails that haven’t been trimmed in some time, scrape against Simon’s own sides.  
Simon hopes they leave red marks.  
The burn feels so nice.

“You are such a fucking perv Barry!” Nathan yelps.  
“You fucking creep, I bet you think about doing all sorts of terrible things to me, huh?”

Simon glares at him, glad that Nathan wasn’t granted the ability to read minds like Kelly can because yes, yes, he thought about doing many horrible things to Nathan.

Why was Nathan such a cock even while being fucked? But truly, did Simon expect anything less from him?  
“Let it out Barry, fuck me like a slag.”  
Simon speeds himself up, Nathan’s body smacking up against the back of the chair with each pound.

“My— _huff_ —name is n- _not_ Barry.” He manages to grunt out, steadying himself as he puts out a hand to not fall from their position.  
Nathan hisses. “Of course I know that you f-fuckin’ loon, just _shut up_ and fill my cunt with your cock.”

  
Simon could barely refuse.  
The sweat pooled on his chest, and he felt how Nathan’s legs were shaking around his waist.  
Simon looks at Nathan’s face, blushed, sweaty, submissive. He uses a hand to grab a fistful of his bouncy soft hair and pull it rather hard.  
That must have been the right move because Nathan squeals in delight and rolls his eyes back with a:  
“Fuck _fuck_ —yes, _god_ , yes! I’m gonna cum!”  
The contraction of his muscles around his dick felt absolutely amazing and soon Simon comes so hard he keels over onto the chair and slumps against Nathan’s sequin clad body.

They both pant ravenously like Curtis and the other track runners, Simon’s hands tangled in Nathan’s sweaty curls still.

Somehow Simon makes it back home and into his bedroom at some point.  
He slightly remembers Nathan’s flushed exhausted looking face winking and blowing a kiss at him as he left the community building, but that could have been a dream, maybe it all was. It wouldn’t have been the first time Simon had an elaborate fantasy involving Nathan and cumming inside his ass.

—

It wasn’t a dream.

Nathan had been drunk, and so surely he would either not even remember things, or simply pretend it never happened. Just some dumb drunken horny mistake, nothing more.  
Nathan starts teasing him again, things go back to normal, Simon prepares to brush it off and try and move on, and not try and think of Nathan’s orgasm face every time he sees him at service.

But Nathan corners him near the vending machine a few days later, as he is trying to leave for the day.  
Nathan has his face close to Simon’s and breathes rather hard, Simon can smell the recent cigarette still on his lips.

Nathan reaches out a hand to gently trace Simon’s chin, without a word. He shudders, locking eyes with Nathan, trying to read what he was thinking. “N- _Nathan_?” He tries, Nathan just smirks and kisses him hard, biting at Simon’s lip and Simon melts into him almost instantly, desperate to receive any sensual interaction.

  
They end up fucking in that small corner of the center.  
Nathan whines, fully sober but just as lost looking, as he tucks curls behind his ear and grins at Simon dumbly.

“I want to see you again, can I come over to your place, like, tonight?” Is the last thing he expects the man to say after they zip up their own pants.

\--

He hadn’t really intended someone to come over to his home, especially after Sally had made the comment of it being ‘especially clean’ Simon felt self conscious about his living habits.

Nathan would probably think he was weird and ridiculous with his color organized books or his collection of Battlestar Galactica dvds and action figures. Plus he really didn’t want him to find the dozens of video clips he had saved of Nathan. Especially the obviously voyeuristic ones.

 _Oh god_ , Simon had to delete those before he came in.  
But it was too late, Nathan already was strolling around his small room, fingers flicking over papers and books and knick knacks like he owned the place, gracing every corner with his holiness.  
What a pompous prick.

Simon manages to sit himself into his desk chair and quickly pulls up the files he knew had the most dirty content.  
Nathan turns to him and sniffs like a dog surveying it’s environment.

“It’s _so clean_ Barry.” Nathan states.  
“No wonder you are so good with discarding dead bodies.”  
Simon twitches.

Nathan was flipping through some papers he had in the corner of his room and Simon tries to keep an eye on him as he simultaneously is trying to delete those videos of Nathan. He didn’t need them anyway, he had the real life person now, or so, he hoped for the moment.  
Then he hears Nathan whistle like he was impressed by something and Simon’s eyes dart back up to see what he was doing.

“My, my Barry…” he notices he is holding a blue colored folder and thumbing through different documents.  
Simon’s blood runs cold. He knew exactly what those papers were and he leapt up to reach a hand out to try and take them from his grasp.

“Physiatric assessment huh?”  
“ _GIVE ME THAT!_ ” He roars.  
“Says here you are diagnosed with severe social anxiety, dissociative identity disorder, OCD, and—“ Nathan is holding his much longer arms up too high for Simon to reach as he hobbles on the balls of his feet frantically trying to stop him from reading more.  
“Sadistic and sociopathic tendencies.”

Nathan glances at him with huge shocked eyes.  
That’s it. Simon is pretty sure Nathan will never speak to him again, he is pretty sure Nathan will take one good look at that list of labels the doctors had stamped onto his person and decide ‘nope, this person is far too fucked up to be remotely a friend of mine, let alone a sexual partner’.  
But Nathan makes no indication of leaving the room, or being scared, he actually grins at him, a little wickedly and he snickers.

“So, do you like, think about hurting people when you get off, you sick little freak?”  
“N-no, I--” Simon tries but is cut off as Nathan suddenly fists at the collar of Simon’s button up shirt with a swipe, tugging his person towards him roughly, so close he feels Nathan’s breath against his mouth.  
Nathan licks his lips and steps in towards Simon, he towers above him, leering down as Simon still sits in his computer chair.

“Do you think about hurting _me_?” The little brat asks, teeth flashing in a wide pointy grin.  
Simon blinks. “W-well-” He starts to try and explain himself, make himself sound a little less crazy and a little less gross but Nathan places a finger against his mouth to silence him.  
“That’s _so hot_ , you don't even know.”  
Simon is taken aback.

Wait, what does _that_ mean?  
And then he says something that makes his heart beat stutter against his rib cage.  
“I _dare you_ to fucking hit me.”

Simon is not sure he comprehends what Nathan is asking him.  
“You-you _what_?”  
“I said,” Nathan pushes Simon hard backwards so he falls towards his bed.  
“ _Hit me._ ” He spits the words and Simon is triggered by flash of res to do what he says, just in self defense from being shoved, but he feels indecisive, torn between taking the bait and also the moral part of his brain that says hurting people is wrong.

“I don’t...I don’t know…”  
Nathan rolls his green eyes, leaning back away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed.“It’s called BDSM, shit for brains.”  
“I know what that is I just…I’ve never done it before”  
Nathan rolls his eyes even harder Simon thinks they might pop out of his skull and roll across his bedroom carpet. “Well, I have, and it’s no big deal. It’s just fun ‘n games, love, its all consensual and stuff. So come on, have a good go and get all that crazy out of ya.”

Nathan sits himself back against the bed, smiling and sitting up proudly, like he was about to show some cool trick to a friend and not get hit in the face by him.

Simom sits near to him, almost touching knees and looks at the ceiling for a moment, trying to steady his pulsing thoughts. Then he looks to Nathan and his stupid wide grin. The longer he stared, the more he remembers that fire of anger. How it builds and roars and engulfs him like the flames of Matt’s house.  
He pictures his laughing face, how he turned from a friend to an enemy so sharply and thinks of how cruel Nathan was still to him.

So Simon slaps him. And it feels so good he pants hard in a rush of adrenaline, he’s pretty sure the person being slapped should be the one gasping for air and feeling a rush, but god it felt incredible, like a high from a drug. Finally getting all this anger out.  
But Nathan too gasps loudly, face turned away from him in a red blush where he struck, Simon is suddenly worried he’s scared Nathan, or seriously hurt him.

“A-are you alright?” He asks rather hastily, reaching out his hand at an attempt at comfort, he did not want to continue this kind of thing if Nathan made any indication of being uncomfortable. He wasn't _that_ sadistic. Maybe.  
Nathan snaps his head up to meet Simon’s gaze, and those green gorgeous eyes were filled with such an intoxicating fire Simon loses a breath for a moment.

“You call _that_ a hit?” He hisses out between gritted teeth.  
“Try harder, you fuckin’ _pussy_.”

Simon’s head reels, a mix of spite from Nathan’s teasing and a rush of red hot arousal coursing through him.  
This was exactly what Nathan wanted, he realized and Simon was falling right into his trap.  
So he hits him again, much harder.

The pale skin blossoms beautifully under the blow, a pretty pink flushing across Nathan’s otherwise pasty skin. Simon hits him again a few more times, groaning in response to the loud _smacking_ noise that skin against skin granted the space of his room accompanied with the lovely sounds Nathan made that sounded like it belonged in a porno.

He grabs Nathan’s face in his hand to hold him still as he slaps him hard on the cheek again, and once more still. They both puff out a gust of air as they do so, Nathan emitting soft moans.  
“God.” He whines. “Good?” Simon asks and he whimpers a sound of approval. Simon feels his lower half throbbing, spurred on with a taste for rush.

Nathan is drooling like a mess, eyes glassy and blown over and Jesus, he looked high or drunk out of his mind, but this was all simply from him being roughened up, right? Simon could barely believe somebody would enjoy being hurt as much as this. It makes his heart hammer like wild.

Nathan grunts, asking next, “Choke me out.”  
And he does, squeezes around the feeling of Nathan’s Adam’s Apple bobbing madly as he tries to suck in air. Simon watches in fascination, like he did when Kelly killed the probation worker, and sees how Nathan shuts his eyes softly, mouth opening in a silent gasp. He wonders what goes through someone’s mind as they are losing oxygen to their brain.  
“H- _harder_.” Is a gravely request. Simon strangles him harder, pale face turning a deathly shade of blue, Nathan’s hips buck underneath him and he can feel how hard he is through jeans.  
 _Jesus this guy was wild_.  
Maybe as wild as Simon himself.

“Fuck my mouth, fuck my mouth.” Is a gasp. Simon does that too, rather clumsily, snagging fingers in his tangled hair and throbbing around Nathan’s gagging throat. He cums so hard against Nathan’s tongue, his vision spins. He thinks this might be what love felt like.

“P-please can I-“ Simon asks, pulling on his jeans, it only seemed right he returned the favor.  
Nathan grins, nodding and tugging pants off him in a swift motion.  
He tastes sweet and sour, and everything Simon had hoped a boy tasted like. He can barely believe someone would enjoy such rough play with him.

—

Everything was good between them, and if by ‘good’ you mean them still keeping their relationship a secret from the others, and Nathan still calling him ‘Barry’ and teasing him publicly then yes, things were good.

They fought sometimes, Simon snapping at Nathan now and then when he _really_ acted like a dick. The red would flash through his veins and Simon would want to break his nose or jaw somedays, but he doesn’t. Simon thinks maybe Nathan likes being told off or threatened. Hell, he often ended up snogging Simon and asking to be, “Punished like a bad boy.” whenever Simon became upset at him. And he does, tossing him against a wall, leaving bruises on his throat. But always careful not to hurt him _too much._ He doesn’t want to scare him away. What a had in his grasp now he wanted to crush in a vice grip. Simon feels wild and hungry for more from him, finally feeding that starving beast inside of him.

Nathan gives him this _look_ from across the community center room, and Simon glares back at him. He feels addicted, obsessed, just like watching porn, just like recording everything that happened in his life, but this was on a whole new level. This was flesh and blood and _Nathan._

And at times it was Nathan’s mood that shifted dramatically, he was sad and empty and drank a lot and cried. So Simon comforted him in anyway he knew how. Nathan didn’t like the romantic things much though, like hand holding and kissing cheeks and stuff. He’d rather it be rough and hot and urgent or nothing at all.

Sometimes Simon wished Nathan would take things more seriously, it wasn’t all games and jokes and sex all of the time. (Even though he very much enjoyed the sex part). He wished Nathan would slow down and actually connect.  
But they shared moments, Simon had been able to see a vulnerability in Nathan that he didn’t think many besides maybe Kelly had actually seen.

“So are we _like_ …” Simon starts to ask, “ _Boyfriends_ now?”  
Nathan just shrugs, “Whatever.” And walks it off like he was just asked if he prefers to eat tacos or pizza.

So Simon decides to call him that internally.  
Boyfriend. _Boyfriend_.  
It felt good.

And Simon feels he might _love_ Nathan, that was new.

Simon stopped watching porn. He stopped jerking off alone in the dark to videos of girls getting gang banged and slapped around.  
Instead he went to Nathan, and they fucked and Nathan begged Simon to choke him, spank him, push his face down into the cot he slept on and call him nasty names and Simon sometimes fell asleep sweaty and half dressed curled around Nathan’s lanky frame. And sometimes Simon wouldn’t sleep, but would just watch in his voyeuristic way Nathan sleeping peacefully, feeling oddly aware of the fact that this time he was spying he _was_ allowed to touch.

Nathan said _he_ loved every deprived, twisted up part of him and it was awesome. It made Simon forget about being so alone. Because he actually felt he had someone who sort of understood him for once. And not just the him with a tight button up shirt and criminal record for arsene, but the _him_ that was complex and dark and a little bit weird, but capable of kindness and morality.

Simon was actually feeling happy and feeling loved and desired for the first time in maybe ever. He was smiling and Nathan was too.

Everything was good.  
Everything was good, that is, until Nathan died.

—

The roof was wet and it was so high up.  
Simon tried to save him, just like how he had tried to save Sally.

But as he was slipping out of Simon’s wet grip, it happened too fast, Simon barely has a chance to register and lets his fingers go.  
Nathan cried out, “Save me Barry!” before plummeting down from the rooftop directly impaling himself on a spiked fence.  
He wants to hate Nathan for that, choosing to use his stupid pet name and not his true one moments before his own death.  
But in an oddly sentimental sort of way, he almost feels like the use of the name was like a inside joke between the two of them, by the look of Nathan’s face as he yelped it, it was like he saw that things between them were about to rapidly end, so he had to give Simon one last lovingly mocking remark before he was gone for good.

That was just like Nathan, going out with a bang.  
And a loud one at that.

He looked rather peaceful, wearing that horribly unfashionable pleated suit, curly hair attempted to be slicked to the side, his mouth agape gently as blood trickled out of it.  
Simon almost wanted to reach for his phone to record it.  
He was glad he hadn’t.

Simon tries to continue a normal routine after his death, he tries to wake up in the morning and eat cereal, he tries to go to community service, but nothing was the same without Nathan there, without his Nathan there.

He hadn’t cried at the funeral, he didn’t feel capable. But when Simon went back the next night with a shovel and a trash bag he dry heaved into the dirt and spattered the ground black with tears and bile.  
He had to see him. He had to _have him._

Keeping Sally was partially for sentimental and curiosity reasons and partially from lack of better planning.  
But keeping Nathan was completely driven by the unwillingness to let him go.

Simon stares at Nathan’s corpse, blue skinned and unblinking, beautifully frozen in time forever. Just like she had been.  
Simon cries. It’s low at first, small little gasps of desperation, driblets of tears leaking from his blue pools of eyes, and then it soon turns to chest rattling sobs and screams.

“I loved you, _I loved you, **I loved you**_ **.”**

He cries repeatedly, doubling over onto the floor in front of Nathan’s body, his fists hitting hard against the cement. Surely they would be left bruised.  
“You were the first person who I felt really loved me back. Why did you have to leave me too? _Why_?!”

He chokes down his wails and looks at Nathan to rub a finger under his soft, cold chin, admiring how angelic he still looked even postmortem.  
What a perfectly beautiful creature he had been. Too beautiful for this world.  
He tilts his head up and leans down to press a kiss against his lifeless lips, wiping a bit of his tears onto his body.  
Simon aches, feeling will leaving his body.  
He kisses him again, more slowly, tongue brushing against ice cold flesh.  
He feels himself stir, a horrible feeling. Simon hates himself, sometimes he wished he had no sexual feeling at all, especially at the most horrible moments.

I mean _really_ , why would he want to fuck his dead boyfriend?  
It’s not like he ever thought about it before.  
Okay, maybe he admittedly _had_. But it wasn’t a scenario that could easily have ever happened.  
It's not like Simon would ever want to kill somebody in order to shag them, he would never stoop to that, he would never become what the doctors warned him he could become if he wasn’t careful.  
A _psychopath_. Or a _murder_.  
He shuddered at those words. That _wasn’t_ him.

He was just in shock, being lonely again without the company of Nathan and he was hurting.  
He was hurting _so_ much, far worse than when Sally died and _she_ had been the one in his cooler box.

It was like an emotional knee jerk reaction for his body to assume that feeling empty, feeling broken and sad and overcome with emotion meant it was time to distract himself with getting off. That once involved, then more recently involved his boyfriend, now, it involved his dead body.  
Simon doesn’t really see anything wrong with it, it was opportunistic at the least.  
He considers his chapped lips, rubs thumb across them, stares into the vacant green eyes.

He tugs Nathan’s pants down but as his hand wraps around Nathan’s cold stiff member he swears he hears him whimper, decides that’s just his hopeful imagination. But then he realizes that Nathan is moving underneath him and Simon _gasps_ , watching in awe as his boyfriend wiggles back to life.  
His cheeks slowly flood with a pink blush of circulation and he blinks, gasping air loudly back into his newly oxygenated lungs.

“ _Damn_ Barry.” He sputters out to him, “I knew you were fucked up but — giving one to my _corpse_? Now _that’s_ a whole new level that I can’t even wrap my mind around.”

Simon chokes down a shriek, jumping back momentarily, raising his hands away from Nathan’s body in shock.  
“N- _Nathan_!?” He blinks a few times to be sure he wasn’t in a fantasy world.  
Nathan nods, sitting up straighter, cracking his neck and stretching his jaw open in short yawns.  
“One and only.”

Simon is silent as he watches his boyfriend rise from the cold ground, shaking his limbs as if he hadn’t just been cold dead a moment ago.

“Fuck mate, I need some _carbs_ , ya’know? Here, I’m gonna get sometin’ from the pantry.”  
Nathan strides across the room to reach up in a cupboard and grab a bagged loaf of bread.

Simon watches him untie the bread bag, still silent and dumbstruck, rushing to process everything.  
Nathan hoists himself up to sit on the counter, realizes he is being watched and looks up, cocking his eyebrow at him.

Finally Simon walks over beside him, reaching out a finger to trace Nathan’s jean leg, tentatively as if he may crumble to dust and turn back in the coffin if he was too hard with him. He inhales and tries to form coherent thoughts.  
“H-how—-I-I really thought you were gone Nathan.” Simon keeps from his eyes leaking, but his breath comes short in his speech, shakily.

Nathan runs a hand through his hair gently and it almost startled Simon with how gentle and kind the feeling suddenly was. Simon stares at him.  
“Nah, would take a lot more to take me out.” Nathan smiles. “I’m immortal baby!”

“So you— you _knew_?” Simon asks, voice shaking.  
Nathan nods as he chews the bread loudly.

“Yep, hence why I first wanted you to fuck me up since the beginning. I can’t die, so why not use me as your own personal hurt and fuck toy? You like it, I like it.”  
Nathan grins again, shrugging. God he’s pretty, Simon thinks, and _distracting_.

“Is that why you weren’t scared of me being…? Being a…” he can’t finish the sentence so Nathan does.  
“— a crazy?”  
He shakes his head this time. “Nah you don’t scare me, nothing does now, since I don’t have to worry about much of anything anymore.” He gestures to a unopened bag of crisps and Simon absentmindedly hands it to him.  
“But in all honesty Barry—“ Nathan shoves a handful of salty chips into his gob and chews before continuing.

“ _Simon_ -“  
and his heart pounds at the use of his name, his real name. “I am not scared by you.”  
Simon had by now sat on the counter across from him.  
Nathan locks eyes with him as he gently rests a hand on Simon’s leg.

“Not one bit. Because I understand you. You aren’t just some nut job kid who tried to burn a house down and likes to wank it to some fucked up stuff on the internet, you’re a good person-“  
Simon blinks hard at this.  
 _He’s a good person?_ He highly doubts that.

“A _good_ person Simon.”  
He repeats as if he was the one with the mind reading abilities.  
“Yeah you’ve fucked up, mate, who hasn’t? Look at me!” Nathan gestures to himself briefly and Simon could probably list more than a dozen ways Nathan has fucked up to prove his point, but he he lets him continue to talk.  
“Everyone has weird shit they think or do because the world fucks them up enough to be that way. Some people are gamblers, others play video games until they shit themselves in their parent’s basements, it’s whatever. But you’re kind, and you’re loyal as a fucking labrador to your friends, mate and that’s really all that matters.”

He continues to eat, how much can he fit inside that tiny stomach of his? Simon is scared it’s going to burst.  
“You’re different, and people pick on you for being different, we all do. But it’s part of life, yeah? Being different means you get the shit end of the stick shoved far up your ass, but it doesn’t make you a weak guy. It makes you more relatable and caring, if anything. I get why you do the shit you do, Simon, ‘cause I’ve been there too.”

Nathan pauses, licking the salt on his fingers. “I mean maybe not _precisely_ where you have been.” And he grins awkwardly.  
“But we all ‘been in a fucked up place doing fucked up things. People don’t wanna admit that, but it’s true. And most people don’t know _you_ like I do, so the very last thing I think you could do, considering my immortality and incredibly good sense of danger -” He flicks his head to toss a curl away from his face dramatically. “- is scare me enough to make me run away.”

Nathan’s hand is on his knee again, squeezing a little this time and his beautiful green eyes gaze into his own blue ones. It’s almost too much for Simon to download in his mind at once, he blinks rapidly to try and find friction of thought, but Nathan continues anyway.

“You’re one of the best friends I’ve had. All of you misfits are. But you, Simon, you’re very important to me. You’ve really helped me accept myself more, even the fucked up bits...” Nathan shifts his eyes away awkwardly and mumbles, “I love you.”

_Loves him._

Simon swallows hard and searches his own brain to find appropriate answers. “Well i-it seems dying has made you rather wise and self reflective...t-thank you. I feel the same about...about _you_ …”  
He felt the break beginning in his voice and he feared sobbing if he continued. “W-was it scary? How did you find out?” Changing the subject from himself seemed to work.

Nathan’s eyes shift around anxiously and he rubs his wrist.  
“Uh. You know I tried to kill myself before...”  
Simon goes quiet, unblinking.  
“N-no, no I didn’t know that.”  
The room was silent until Nathan crinkles the chip bag.

“It was only one time, a few months ago, after Mum had kicked me out. I tried it with a noose. Guns and razors are too messy, ya know. I woke up about 20 minutes after I hung myself, just hanging still on the rope.”

More silence that left Simon just wanting to ask even more.  
But Nathan continued himself.

“I think that it took longer for me to come back this time because there was so much blood loss, and multiple wounds. Hell, one spike went through my lung.” Nathan rolls his eyes and coughed, rubbing his chest as if that was some everyday annoying occurrence.

“Felt pretty good though.” Simon tilts his head oddly. “Being stabbed and all. A feeling I can’t really explain. Just imagine being fingered...but it’s like... a sharp penis against your body and into your own organs.”  
Simon scoffs, shaking his head, bewildered. “ _What_? You really are something, Nathan.”  
Nathan laughs. “Sorry mate. I guess I like adventure, the rush and high that dying brings. It’s fucking _brilliant_.” His eyes sparkle with excitement when he says this, similar to that of a child who sees a rollercoaster ride, it looked so familiar to a feeling Simon knew well. “Better than any drug you could possibly imagine, and I’ve done a lot of ‘em. Plus I bet it’s nothing you haven’t thought of you pervert.” Simon stays silent.

“I had a lot of fucked up stuff happen to me, my Dad leaving me and _um_ —” Nathan takes a deep breath before continuing. “— then my Mom’s first boyfriend abusing me and shit, my Mom never believed me for that...and now—now my Mum kicking me out…” Nathan goes blank, a look of all too familiar dissociation crossing his emerald eyes. Simon had never seem Nathan like this. This was vulnerable and lost, more than even when he cried alone at night. Simon places a very delicate hand against his own leg. It felt like Nathan let out some top secret information because he hurriedly clears his throat and changes the topic.  
“But yeah, it’s all fine. I literally have nothing to worry about now.” He grabs at the last bit of chips in the bag and munches.

Simon looks at him thoughtfully. Long enough for Nathan to still himself and ask, “What?”

“Oh nothing. You are just more like me than I realized.” Nathan laughed, “Oh c’mon man, we are _nothing_ alike.” But Simon sees a twinkle in his eyes that told him otherwise. They look at each other for a minute before Simon breathes out a small, “I love you too…” Nathan flickers a smile.

It seemed like that was about all Nathan could muster when it came to being genuinely raw and kind to him, so after gazing at him for a few more breaths, he sniffs decidedly and stretches, finishing the bag of fries and tossing it to the garbage can.

He hops off the cement counter and turns to Simon. “So this means…” he stretches high with his arms, shirt hiking up to expose belly and gives him a look, waiting for an answer. Simon quirks his head, not sure what he was on about now.  
“This means.. _what_?” Nathan laughs.

“This means you can do whatever the bloody hell you wish to me! Play out any of your sick fantasies you’ve always wanted! Chop off my balls, cum in my eye, stick your dick in my ear and fuck my brains out, I don’ know! Get Creative for god’s sake! This could be fun!”  
Simon blushes an instant crimson color and scoffs, looking away and pulling at his own hair flusteredly.  
“Nathan, _please_ , don’t be ridiculous, why would I do any of that?!”

Nathan chortles, rolling his pretty eyes dramatically. “Oh please love. I have heard the things you think about when Alisha uses her power on you.” He waggles a finger at him scoldingly. “I even read some of your nasty lil’ journals a few times-” Simon gasps, interrupting him with, “You _what_?!”  
“—I mean I didn’t start dating a murderer for my sex life to be all ‘lights off under the covers condom style’.”  
Simon almost would have been offended, but he only scowls at him hotly.

“But I-I _don’t_ want to hurt you Nathan!” He protests.  
Suddenly his messy haired face is very close to Simon’s, the air of the room thickening dramatically from just a sentimental moment ago. “I know for a fact Barry that you have wanted to fuck me up real good for a good long while.”  
He sneers and gives Simon this look like a cat on the hunt. Simon can feel his pulse quickening dangerously in a way only Simon could muster.

“If it felt that exhilarating to be stabbed by the fence posts, I cannot imagine what it would be like fucking while I am _dying_.” Nathan’s eyes go foggy, like he was dazed and Simon just ogles at him.  
“N-Nathan my god…” He cannot deny how the ideas sent a red rush through his brain, just like that of when he watches porn or thought about blood for too long. The idea of Nathan getting off to his own suffering was... fucking delicious. Simon tries to cut that thought short though, trained after years of not letting those dark ideas get too far.

Nathan pushes him against the counter suddenly, Simon feels his own back flush to the cool cement and he gasps gently.  
Nathan pushes his face close to his own.  
“You own a knife, right?”  
Simon gasps quietly again.  
“ _Right_?” Nathan presses his knee into Simon’s groin.  
“Y-yes.” Simon swallows, nodding and Nathan grins. “Good, bring it with you tomorrow, okay love?”  
He releases the grip on his shoulders and removes the knee at his cock.  
“Now you should probably go to bed sweet cheeks, community service is bright and early and I expect you to be there!”  
Before Simon has much time to process any of the events of the night, from death to vulnerability to sudden arousal, Nathan whirls around and out of the room, but not before blowing him a kiss.

Punching Nathan in the face did seem like a pretty satisfying idea right then.

Maybe he would bring the knife.

—

The crew accepting Nathan was immortal was actually easier than expected. Kelly was upset, then generally relieved, then upset again.  
Simon thinks he is actually having the worst time with it. He stares at Nathan all day, still seeing him as the lifeless corpse he was only 78 hours ago, blinking to make sure he was, indeed, still alive.  
How could events have left him whiplashed so severely?

It wasn’t until later that night, after the newest probation worker had left, Nathan sauntered over to him in the main hall and eyed him up and down.

They are kissing and Simon grips so tightly at his lover’s arms and hair like he may disappear again, wanting to press flesh to his until they melted into one.  
Then Nathan gropes at his ass, feeling the knife he, indeed, had in his back pocket.  
Nathan purrs like a cat in excitement, bringing it out and into Simon’s hand.  
“B-but Nathan you literally _just_ died!” Simon protests. “Don’t you need to, I don’t know, let yourself recharge or somethin’?!” 

Nathan hisses, biting his lip and closing Simon’s own hand around the handle of the weapon.  
“Do it Barry, _fucking_ do it!” He whispers, and Simon knows Nathan is pushing his buttons, he knows that he could so easily snap him into a point of no return.  
The knife in his hand feels light, almost like he was holding a pen to write with in his journal, only this was real life, with a real person.  
“I-I Don't know…”  
Simon is shoved hard up against the fence by Nathan suddenly and he gasps in shock, nearly losing grip on the weapon in his hand.  
“Do it, you fucking little _shit_.” Nathan snarls at him, breath hot in his face. “Or are you gonna pussy out? Can’t even kill me, like how you couldn’t even save me hm?” Nathan spits the words into his face. “Poor little _Barry_ the panty sniffer, no one cared about him so he just stayed lonely his whole miserable life. Gotta find something to fuck so he resorted to dead bodies and cartoon porn on the internet what a miserable fucking loser of—“

That did it.

He shoves Nathan back against the opposing wall as hard as he could, enough to make his head crack against the concrete. Nathan gasps in shock.  
He groans and Simon is unsure if it’s from pain or pleasure or maybe both.

“Shut the _fuck_ up Nathan!” Simon hisses, fists in a bunch around his shirt collar, knife still being held firmly in his hand.  
“You’re such a fucking _cunt_ , do you know that?!” He shoves him up against the brick once more.

Nathan croons like a fucking slog while Simon batters and yells at him.  
“You are so goddamn _insufferable_ all the time, and I don’t know why! _Why_ the fuck do you always act like you’re better than everyone? And think you can just fuck with other people’s emotions?”  
Nathan just grins like a mad man strung out. “Thaaaat’s it Barry baby, I wanna see you get _angry_.” Simon sees some blood coating the back of his head and brick and something switches in Simon, everything flooding to a crimson in his mind.  
He grabs Nathan by the jaw and Nathan growls hotly like a feral animal.  
Nathan knew exactly how to fucking destroy Simon. In the best worst way possible.

Simon growls back, a guttural and honestly terrifying sound, he didn’t think he was capable of.  
With one hand pressed firm against Nathan’s still recently bruised throat, he holds his boyfriend in place, placing the knife in his mouth so he can use the free hand to unbutton and rip down his tight jeans.  
“You want to be fucked?” He hisses through the knife handle, turning him around and slamming his face into the hard wall behind them.  
“Then you’re gonna be _fucked_.”

Nathan is reeling underneath him, beginning to pant obscenely like an animal in heat, eyes wild and hazed, pressing his still boxered behind against Simon’s jeans.  
“Yes- _yes_. Fuck me, baby, _fuck me_ with the knife against my ribs.”  
Simon moans, throbbing hard in response to his boyfriend’s words and grinding with all his might against Nathan’s pert ass.  
He realizes the power he has, Simon watches his own muscles flex under his shirt as he holds Nathan in place firmly. He felt so powerful, probably more so than he ever had in his life. Simon could literally do _anything_ to this human being and ultimately Nathan would be fine. His head span with the endless possibilities of horrid things. Things his mind and journals kept trapped inside because of the dark content.

He turns his head forcibly and kisses Nathan fiercely, lapping at blood on his busted swollen lip and bitten tongue.  
How Simon had missed this, feared he would never have this ever again.

He turns him back to face Simon, wanting to edge the other as far as possible, wanting to see the other’s beautiful battered face.

Simon teases the blade tip against Nathan’s throat, against the curve of his hip. Nathan is crying, gasping under Simon’s grip around his throat now, purple bruises around his neck quickly darkening in a delicious way, his cheeks are wet with tears, lip and nose bloodied from being smashed against the wall, his jeans around his ankles so he was semi restrained and shuddering. He looked utterly gorgeous.

“B-Barry _please_ —“ Nathan’s croaks out, he thinks maybe he wants him to stop, how far was _too_ far? Nathan could still feel this right? Was he seriously this much of a masochist that he wanted Simon to stab him to death? Simon realizes this, jolts back into reality from his own begotten void of red lustful destruction and is momentarily terrified at what he was doing to his boyfriend. He was about to stop but Nathan cries out in affirming desperation, tugging Simon’s sleeve, pleading for something entirely different from what Simon fears.

“Please! Put it in me, the knife, please, _please_ Simon!” Nathan writhes actually attempting to push himself up _into_ the knife like a pornstar would to a sex toy. “I love you, _oh god_ , I love you! Stab me! Make me bleed out!”

Simon feels such a huge surge of emotion, like he had suddenly been hooked up to an IV of stimulus overload, the red flood was back full force and this was something he couldn’t simply bite his tongue to and let pass. He couldn’t just walk away and jerk off in a private corner. He wanted to give in to this lust. To give in to this crackling burning rage.  
He thinks of Matt, he thinks of the licking flames of the house he tried to burn down, he thought of the years of bullies, of Nathan’s own words, of Sally. He let it explode inside of him.

How does it feel when you finally eat that cake? That damned sinful delicacy that you have told yourself over again and again you cannot have.  
How does it feel to finally taste that sweetness?  
Simon wants to find out.

He feels himself move the hand holding the weapon before he even realizes, as if all those years of wondering, of fighting the fire inside him came to a huge conclusive uproar.

Those eyes, oh those beautiful entracing green eyes that started this whole obsession.  
They were wet and wide and looked incredibly strung out, quivering like he was high on ecstacy. He watches Nathan’s beautifully shaped face contort and twitch spasmodically, he scrunches everything up in what Simon is assuming is pain and pleasure and lets out a long gust of a breathy, “Ohhhh.” As the weapon plunges into his skin.

Simon watches as the blood pours down his own arm, soaking his dark grey shirt with a beautiful bright red, this was one of his favorites, but it would have to be replaced.  
Simon’s breath is caught in awe as he marvels at the way the wound gushes around the sharp glint of metal.  
Nathan moans high pitched and needy, sounding so desperate and broken, he scrabbles at Simon’s hand, panting.

“P-please.” His boyfriend sputters.  
Simon isn’t sure what he wants, so gently twists the knife inside of him experimentally.  
“O-oh _fuck Simon_ …”  
There was his name again and Simon moans in time with Nathan.  
He watches the area around the wound wetten more with blood, feels how Nathan’s body convulses against him, around the weapon inside of him. He doesn’t dare move out with the knife still buried in his ribs.  
“M-more.” Nathan demands, almost startling Simon out of his daze and observing the bloody scene before him.

He doesn’t want to take it out, but Nathan forces the knife out of him with his own hands and so Simon pushes the blade into him again, Nathan crooning in ecstasy as it slides into his stomach this time with a satisfying wet _shlick_  
“Y-yeahh, you sick fuck.” Nathan growls to him, panting harder and shallower.

They slide down the wall together, Simon grasping onto Nathan to help him down onto the ground.

He doesn’t expect it, but Simon glances down at Nathan’s boxers, still half on in the process of desperately trying to pull his trousers down enough to fuck him, but not actually suceeding, he sees a large damp patch at the front, growing outward.

“God, are you _pissing_ yourself?”  
Nathan nods ever slightly.  
“Mmhm. Came too.” He croaks out, and Simon groans after learning this information. What a beautifully fucked up human being Nathan was.  
“I-is this satisfying for you Barry?” He asks.  
Simon can hardly respond, he felt so out of his body, slowly coming back down to Earth.  
He just killed someone. He just fucking _killed_ _Nathan_.  
Simon groans low in response, wiggling the knife a little more for good measure before drawing it out of Nathan’s body completely. Simon watches the milky red blood dribble off the top of the blade before letting it clatter down onto the concrete, creating a red splatter against the floor as it hits the ground.   
Eyes snap back to Nathan as he gasps with all the might of someone coming up for air under water, eyes rolling back a little. Simon watches his chest heaving sporadically, shudderingly.

Simon realizes he is suddenly crying.

“Barry _no_ —-no it’s okay“ Nathan frowns, reaching a shaky hand out.  
“D-Don’t leave me, okay?” Simon is gasping in a sob, suddenly wrought with anxiety and fear. Nathan holds his hand against his slowing heartbeat, squeezing as much as he could.  
“Never.”

Nathan grins at him through a mouth full of fresh blood, bubbling from his lips.  
“I probably look beautiful as I die, don’t I?”  
What a narcissist.  
“I-I’ll be back in a few hours, th-this shouldn’t take long to-to recover from.” His voice was becoming weaker, more wobbled as he spoke.

Simon nods, holding Nathan’s wavering hand in his. He closes his eyes and pressing a kiss to his lips, tries not to cry more. He tastes like copper and salt.

“I love you Nathan.”  
Nathan doesn’t say anything in return, but he watches Simon with loving eyes that slowly fade with light.

He wipes tears off his boyfriend’s cheek that had dripped from his own face.

How peculiar it was, Simon thinks, to watch someone you love, and sometimes hate, slowly die in your arms, but knowing that they will only return to you again shortly.  
And just then, in that moment, Simon startlingly realizes he didn’t really have a reason to be sad anymore.  
And what a horribly foreign thought that was.


End file.
